


Fluff

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, M/M, Mothman, Rating is for swearing, Reader request, indruck, takes place in the same universe as Falling, the lightest of angsts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 16:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18056441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Or: Four times Duck got some cuddles from the mothman.A reader requested fic!"We as a fandom need more fluff in which Duck and Indrid cuddle with Indrid in mothman form"Takes place in the same universe as Falling, but can be read as a stand alone.





	Fluff

The first time is the night in the trailer, after Indrid saves Duck from becoming ranger-mush at the bottom of a cliff. They’d fallen asleep on the couch, and Duck tosses, turns, knocks Indrids' glasses off. The transformation wakes him, and just as he moves to retrieve them he feels Ducks' breathing shift as he jolts awake. 

He pretends he’s asleep, focuses on breathing deep and even. The few times Duck has seen him like this he’d clearly been intimidated. Odds are he won’t enjoy waking up on top of a giant mothman.

But after a moment Duck nestles down with a small sigh, one hand hanging down Indrids' stomach, the other softly stroking the down on his chest. He decides to chance it, gently flops a wing across Ducks' back. Another sigh and soon Duck is snoring, a solid, welcome weight on Indrids' chest. 

\------------------------------------

The second time is shortly after they begin dating. Duck bursts into Indrids' trailer, looking haggard. Indrid sees it coming, clears space on the couch for him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothin', everythin', fuck, I don’t know, I just feel, I feel…” His breathing is coming in gasps and he’s frozen to the spot until Indrid takes his hand and guides him over to sit down. 

“I’m, fuck, I’m technically at work right now, but I can’t, I’m so tired, everythin' hurts, and I keep hurtin' myself on things, and I can’t stop thinkin' about what’s gonna happen when I have to fight somethin'.”

“Breathe, sweetheart.” 

A huge gulp of air, followed by a shaky exhale.

“Is there a way I can help?”

“I don’t think so, it’s, it’s all just overwhelmin' today.”

Indrid considers the futures.

“I have an idea.”

He moves quickly through the Winnebago, shutting off the lights. Makes sure all the curtains are closed. Sits down on the floor facing the couch and removes his glasses. 

“If you are comfortable doing so, come and sit in my lap. I have a trick that, well, that one of my kind taught me when I was first adapting to my powers and got overwhelmed.”

To his delight, Duck is in his lap before he finishes the sentence, curling in against him. Indrid wraps his arms around him. Chirrs softly as Duck pets the feathers on his chest.

Slowly, he draws his wings around them both, shutting out most of the remaining light. He knows that for Duck, it likely also dampens any remaining sounds.

“Now, try focusing on this noise.” He purrs, softly, rubs his arms down Ducks back and shoulders, feels him begin to relax after a minute or two. He nuzzles Indrids' chest before resting his cheek on it and looking up at him.

“Think it’s helpin'.”

“Oh good.”

“Can I..stay like this for a bit?" He whispers, arms doing their best to embrace Indirds' large form.

“Of course, as long as you like eeep!” Duck begins scritching Indrids' back and sides.

“Sorry, you’re just so fluffy and soft.” Another scritch, another “eep.”

“And ticklish.” Duck smiles, rubs his forehead against Indrids' feathers. 

“Are you ticklish also?” 

“Uhhhhh.”

Indrid grins.

“You are. Where?”

“Nowhere, I mean, uh, my arm-limbs, and my nose? No that don’t make sense.” He looks up at Indrid again, laughing sheepishly.

“Never fear, I have my ways of finding out. But not right now.” He cuddles Duck closer with a hum, runs a hand through his hair. 

“Is it alright if I touch your wings?”

“Be my guest.”

Duck reaches up, runs his fingers down part of his right wing, tracing the patterns on it. Indrid purrs again.

“That feel good?”

“It’s a bit like when you stroke my hair in my human form. It’s pleasant and comforting.”

Duck turns about in Indrids' lap and runs a hand over each wing.

“Reminds me of a Great-Horned Owl. Your colors, I mean. It’s beautiful.”

Indrid preens inwardly at the compliment, leans down to rub his head against Ducks cheek, earning him a startled laugh. 

“That part reminds me of a cat.”

“Nonsense, I am a majestic being of the sky.”

“Uh huh, sure, then what happens if I do this?” He turns around, rubs his palms on Indrids' stomach, causing him to stretch his wings out with a chirp.

“See, cat.”

“Awful rich coming from a teddy bear.”

“Ain’t that kind of bear, darlin'.”

“Is that so?” Indrid rolls backwards, holding Duck to him as he does and cuddling him close once he’s laying down, Duck giggling the entire time.

“You’re soft, furry, and you make me feel so safe and I want you in my bed every night. Sounds like a teddy bear to me.”

Duck relaxes against him, laugh still bubbling up from his throat, rests one hand on Indrids shoulder while the other pets his cheek.

“Only for you, darlin', only for you.”

\--------------------------------------------------------

The third time is while they’re both laid up with the flu. Ducks' newly compromised immune system means it’s the first time he’s had it in years. Indrids' Sylph immune system usually protects him, but it turns out spending copious amounts of time kissing a human increases the odds of picking up one of their illnesses. 

He’s sprawled out in his Sylph form (it seems less effected by the illness, which means he’s only wishing for the sweet release of death 90% of the time instead of 100%) on the floor of Ducks' living room while Duck attempts to break his fever by sitting in hot bath. When the phone rings, he answers it without thinking.

“Hey big bro, still feelin' like shit?”

“Hello Jane, and yes, he is.”

“Is this Indrid?”

“Hmmm? Oh, yes, I am Indrid. It is nice to” he breaks off into a coughing fit “meet you.”

“Likewise. He got you sick too huh?”

“Yes. He’s in the tub right now, do you need me to get him?”

“Nah, just tell him that mom’s secret throat remedy was hot water with lemon, cayenne, and honey.”

“I shall. Thank you, Jane.” He hangs up the phone, stands, and then holds still so he stops feeling woozy. In the interim Duck shuffles out of the bathroom, bleary-eyed.

“Your sister says we should drink hot water with honey, lemon juice, and cayenne. You never mentioned she was trying to kill you.” He smiles weakly at his own joke.

“Goddamn, no wonder that thing always tasted so bad. Usually worked though. But I ain’t got half the stuff for it and I still got a fever. So no grocery runs.” He pads into the bedroom and Indrid follows, buries himself under every blanket they have. Duck curls up next to him, holding onto his arm and falls asleep. A half hour goes by and then Indrid begins shivering, accidentally waking Duck up in the process.

“Still cold?”

“Yes. Need. Heating pad.” He grabs Duck and pulls him onto his chest and stomach, tugging the blankets over them both. 

“Mmmmm, nice heating pad.” He pats Ducks back.

“Mmm, nice pillow.” Duck smooshes himself down, tucks his arms between his body and Indrids'. After a moment a buzz of sensation hits Indrid as Duck traces a finger across his chest. 

“Feels nice.”

“Tracin' the patterns.”

“What?”

“Playin' connect the dots with your spots.” Comes the reply, in mumbled sing-song. Indrid assumes he means the white speckles across his feathers. 

“See anything interesting?”

“Buncha constellations. Here’s the big dipper annnd here’s Aries and this” he draws a large shape, "is mothra.”

“That’s not a constellation, is it?”

“Shhhh, I am the nature expert.”

Indrid laughs, coughs, laughs again.

“That feels so nice when you do it.”

“Really? Then this one is the little dipper.” He traces a new pattern and Indrid shudders happily, chirps. 

By the time they fall asleep Duck’s found every constellation he knows, and made up a few more in honor of the sweet, sleepy mothman beneath him.

\--------------------------------

It’s the fourth time that sticks most in Indrids' memory. Because there was no bigger reason for it, nor was it a happy accident; Duck just wanted it.

He’s wandering around the apartment, glasses off, looking for his sketchpad. Turns to see Duck, seated on the couch, gazing at him with a smile. 

“Can the drawin’s wait a sec?”

“Yes, why?”

Duck opens his arms and Indrid hurries back to couch, lets Duck pull him down so that his head is in his lap.

Loving hands stroke the fuzz on his head, occasionally dropping down to rub across his stomach. He’s purring so loud Leo can probably hear him from his apartment. 

“You’re so goddamn cute like this.” Duck kisses his forehead, then draws a hand up to kiss that as well.

“You know, before you I didn’t even know I could blush in this form.” He turns his head, bumps it against Ducks hip. 

“Before you I never thought I’d love sleepin' on a giant moth, but here we are. Now c’mere and give me some of those mothman cuddles.”

Indrid laughs, rolls onto his side as Duck wriggles down next to him and burrows his face in his fluff, holding him tight.

“Any time you like, my sweet. Any time.”


End file.
